“Very well.” His eyes narrowed as he regarded her seriously. “And how do you think your father shall like living in a one bedroom flat? It will be a shame for him to lose his precious horses, but, of course, a bankrupt man cannot keep such expensive beasts.”
“Stop it,” she hissed, crossing her arms defensively in front of her chest. She realised, in the small part of her brain that was capable of normal, rational thought, that she was shaking like a leaf. “I can’t believe his situation is so dire.”
“It is. He has had a rather lacklustre four years.”
"Because of you?" She shook her head with fury.
His shrug was one of a total insolence. "I had to be sure you would come when I was ready."
"You … bastard!" She spat at him, palming her hair roughly. "How could you do this?"
"Actually, it was surprisingly easy."
Guilt and anger made her cheeks flush pink. “I’ve been away. I should have paid more attention.” She closed her eyes on the anguished wave of self-recrimination.
“You have had more pleasurable activities to keep you busy, I am sure.” Zayn’s voice was razor sharp with accusation.
A sensible woman might have realised that he held all the cards, but Julia had never been sensible where the Sheikh was concerned. Not since the first moment their eyes had locked, across a crowded ball room, and she had felt something fall into place in the core of her heart.
“I would hardly call an international law degree pleasurable,” she said forcefully. “But it has certainly kept me busy.”
His lips formed a sneer. “All work and no play makes for a very dull Julia. Never mind. Once we are married, you will have your hands full. With me.”
Despite her innocence, something about the tone of his voice made her think she’d missed a double entendre. Or maybe it was just that her mind seemed to go straight to sex whenever Zayn was nearby. “Why do you want to marry me anyway?” She asked jerkily, piercing him with her direct stare. Her eyes were wide-set and almond shaped, and he had always found them quite hauntingly alluring.
“Because, Julia, I made myself a promise that I would possess you, and I never break my word. Particularly not to myself. I rather like the idea of owning you.” His words ran over her body like warm oil.
She shivered a little at his cool assertion, laced with hot intent. She tried to sound brave, but her voice shook with a lack of conviction. “I’m not a possession though.”
“Aren’t you?” He let his hand run up her exposed inner thigh, to the ridiculously high edge of her denim cut offs, then padded his thumb across the apex of her legs, watching from narrowed eyes as her breath hitched in her throat, and her face froze with desire. “You are saying I could not possess you now if I chose to?”
Julia forced herself to speak,
though her throat felt tight and dry. “I am not property. Stop acting as though I am.”
“You forget, Julia, I know you. I know how much you adore your father. I know you will do whatever it takes to save him from destitution.”
She squeezed her eyes shut as the intimate contact of his palm became almost too heavenly to endure. “Like marrying you?”
He growled his agreement, and increased the rhythmic stroking of his thumb. Julia’s breath was coming in snatched gasps, and he could tell she was close to exploding. He could take her up against the desk right now, if he wanted to. She was aching for him. Only he’d waited four years for her. He didn’t just want to have sex with her. He wanted to make her need him as she’d never needed anyone else. He wanted to punish her.
“These shorts are ridiculous,” he muttered. "How can you wear such a thing in public?"
Julia was beyond the point of speech. Her eyes flew wide as Zayn pulled at the button and eased the waistband down, just low enough that he could move his thumb past the layer of denim, and the cotton of her underwear, to her most intimate flesh.
His eyes held hers as slowly, he dipped his finger inside her, and felt her clenching warmth. Julia let out a long, slow moan of pleasure as once again, he increased his speed. This time, he didn’t stop. He pleasured her until she cried out and collapsed, spent and warm, against his chest.
Then, with a clinical detachment, he removed himself.
Julia’s fingers were unsteady as she pulled her shorts back into place and refastened the button. She couldn’t believe that had just happened. It had taken him minutes, a few minutes only, to erase all of her barriers and prove that she was as weak-minded as ever, where he was concerned.
“There has to be another way,” she said quietly, to his implacable back.
“Your father has less than a week to appease his creditors.” He shrugged. “If you would prefer to take your chances with them, I will leave now.”
As though it meant nothing to him.
She gulped frantically. “But… even if I agreed to this ridiculous proposal, there would have to be guidelines."